Touch of An Angel
by Becominglight
Summary: One Shot.  Jane is need of comfort.


Summary: One Shot. Jane is in need of comfort.

Spoilers: The Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Shame – because I love them! I make no profit from this, so please don't sue…

Author's Note: Not beta'd, sorry!

The Touch of An Angel

I am tired. Bone weary, muscle heavy, penetrating to my soul, tired. I've stared at the flickering screen of the TV, dulled by its hypnotic rays, and a heaviness sits on me, an unwelcome guest that presses the air from my lungs and leaches my energy. When I can look at the TV no longer I drift in a sleep. When I'm restless I dream of bullets and knives, stigmata, lavender mixed with the metallic tang of blood and fear. I wake sweating. On the nights you are beside me I take comfort in your presence. I calm myself with the gold glint of your hair, the curve of your neck, in the rise and fall or your chest. When you are there I am reminded there is beauty in this world, there is goodness and purity. When you are not, I wish you were.

It's been a growing desire, swelling from the depths of me, lapping at edges of my consciousness, eroding me. I pushed it away for so long, and I can't even say why. Does it matter? What matters now. It's been percolating from the depths of me, catapulted by a bullet that was meant for my brother but that brought you into focus.

I am sitting on my couch staring at the ceiling, a bag of potato chips tucked into me, the seconds ticking by like minutes, slow, ponderous, weighty. I'm tired but I can't sleep, I'm bored but the though of doing anything overwhelms me. On the outside I'm serene, apart for a glint in my eye that gives me away. On the inside I'm at war. I'm feeling wildly vulnerable, as if the bullet shattered my armour, my skin and that I am now nothing more than exposed, raw nerves, tendons and tissues, hypersensitive to the very atoms moving in the air. Nothing safe, nothing is sure and it paralyzes me. I'm disgusted with myself, that something so small as a bullet could bring down the tough Detective Jane Rizzoli. I feel my anger and creeping, scratching dis-ease clasp like a claw around my throat and chest, making my heart beat faster as it pushes back against the suffocating tightness. Thoughts of fallibility and failure swirl around my head, memories of the bullet piercing me and the agonizing, endless fall as I collapse. Memories of a knife pressed to my jugular and the sour smell of Hoyts breath in my face as he whisperes lovingly of the things he wants to do to me, memories of burnt skin as I hold the live flare against my chest. I'm feeling very alone and tears prick my eyes, sliding into my ears. It compounds my disgust.

A key slides into the door and turns. I heard the clicking of your heels as you walk into my apartment. Relief washes across me and I try to wipe the tears away, but they keep coming and then you are standing before me like a merciful angel, your eyes kind, loving, concerned and I want to bury myself in you.

"Jane?"

You sit on the edge of the sofa, taking my hand in yours, rubbing your thumb across my skin, squeezing it.

"I don't know what is wrong with me."

"Are you okay? Is your wound hurting?"

I shake my head, feeling pathetic, all tears and snot. You pull a tissue from your bag and gently wipe my face dry.

"Here, blow your nose."

I comply, sitting up and you rub my back.

"What's wrong with me, Maura?"

"I believe you are suffering from post-traumatic stress."

I give you a look as if what you've said is the stupidest thing I've ever heard but it lasts only a moment because I know you're right, I just didn't want to admit it. But from your mouth, it sounds ok, it sounds logical and your voice carries no judgment about it.

"Yeah." My voice is raspy and low. I bury my head in my hands because I feel another wave of tears welling and when you place your arm around my shoulder I pull you to me because I see no point not to. You rock me and make soothing sounds. My angel, you calm my fears.

When I pull away I expect to see you looking uncomfortable, maybe a little bored or withdrawn but your face speaks only of love.

"Will you stay tonight?"

"Of course I will, Jane."

xxx

I am calmer now. You are my balm. I've hovered close to you all night, seeking your touch and you give it to me freely, your head cocked to one side as though contemplating this development. When we go to bed, we are lying facing each other in the dark which makes me feel like you are much farther from me than you really are. I've clasped your hand in mine and pulled it to my chest. My heart is full of gratitude for you, it presses against my vocal folds and as I relax into sleep it escapes me in breathy tones.

"I love you, Maura."

You move into me, your body against mine. In my fuzzy, half sleeping state I do not question this, I welcome it. I wrap my arms around you and bury my face in your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the fragrance of your warm skin. My hand is stroking the length of your side and your legs are tangling with mine as if you too want to get as close as possible. You feel so incredibly good. I sigh and arch at the same moment you do and I feel your hand slide into my hair.

"Oh, Jane, oh, Jane." You're murmuring against my hairline where your lips are pressed and then you're lifting my face up, brushing feather soft kisses on my face. It's a waking dream, it's surreal and fleeting, I don't quite believe it. Any moment, I fear you'll dissolve into the darkness, nothing more than an illusion, a specter, a vision, but with every breath you remain solid and warm in my arms, trailing gold dust with your lips. There is something so alive in you, Maura, something that flows freely, unadulterated by all the festering, dirty crap in the world outside. Maybe if we kiss, I'm thinking, maybe then I will experience the world as you do, maybe you can breath your magic into me and I'll be healed.

You're moving closer now, you're brushing the corners of my mouth and then I feel you briefly against my lips. It's not enough. It's not anywhere enough. I press in, holding your head so I can crush your mouth to mine, and my heart thunders in my ears and pounds on my rip cage. In the light of day I would not have dared such boldness, not with you, because the implications would be too overwhelming, but in the cocoon that is my bed, implications are irrelevant. You are the only thing that is real.

I feel your chest rising and falling, your response uninhibited and visceral as you kiss me back with a passion I've suspected and ached to know. There is no pretense left now, no going back. We've crossed a line in this moment from friendship into more, there can be no deflecting, no reasoning, no claiming it was the darkness or a sleep addled mistake; from this moment on we become lovers.

xxx

When I wake you are sleeping beside me, the duvet cover exposing your naked back, you arms tucked in against the swell of your breasts. I feel great comfort seeing you like that. I can still feel the way you moved against me last night, how you moved inside me, how you made my world tremble and shatter and how you rebuilt a better one with your caresses. A shift has taken place, the weight has lifted from my chest and I'm startled by how easy it is to breath.

It is only a temporary relief, I know this. In the halo of your embrace you shelter me from my fears but they sit patiently, waiting to hook their painful claws back into me and I will have to face them soon enough. Except the difference is that now, I have you.

You stir, you stretch, you turn over, looking at me with your sleepy eyes.

"My angel." I say as I cup your cheek and your smile lights your face up like the sun.


End file.
